DOREEN 



FER 'er sweet sake I've gone an' 
chucked it clean: 
The pubs an' schools an' all that 
leery game. 
Fer when a bloke 'as come to know 
Doreen, 

It ain't the same. 
There's 'igher things, she sez, fer bloks to do. 
An' I am 'arf believin' that it's true. 

— THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE. 



DOREEN 



BY 

C. J. DENNIS 

Author of "The dlugs of Gosh," "The 

Moods of Gingermick," "Doxeen and 

the Sentimental Bloke," etc. 



NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY 
TORONTO: S. B. GUNDY .' . MCMXVIII 



O^J^ 



.n^^'^ 



Copyright, 1917, 
By JOHN LANE COMPANY 



DEC-i 1317 
©CU479449 



CONTENTS 



i 

i 

Washing Day ....... 9 

^ Logic and Spotted Dog . . . . ti: 

. Vi'lits 21 

Possum 27 



PAGE 



WASHING DAY 

THE little gipsy vi'lits, they wus 
peepin' thro' the green 
As she come walkin' in the 
grass, me little wife, 
Doreen. 
The sun shone on the sassafras, where 

thrushes sung a bar. 
— The 'ope an' worry uv our lives wus 
yellin' fer 'is Mar. — 
I watched 'er comin' down the green; the 

sun wus on 'er 'air — 
Jist the woman that I marri'd, when me 
luck wus 'eadin' fair. 

I sees 'er walkin' in the sun that lit our 

little farm. 
She 'ad three clothes-pegs in 'er mouth, an' 
washin' on 'er arm — 
Three clothes-pegs, fer I counted 'em, 
an' watched 'er as she come. 
9 



WASHING DAY 

" The stove-wood's low," she mumbles, 
'' an' young Bill 'as cut 'is thumb," 

Now, it weren't no giddy love-speech, but 
it seemed to take me straight 

Back to the time I kissed 'er first beside 'er 
mother's gate. 

Six years uv wedded life we've 'ad, an' still 

me dreams is sweet . . . 
Aw, them bonzer little vi'lits, they wus 

smilin' round me feet. 
An' wot's a bit uv stove-wood count, wiv 

paddicks grinnin' green. 
When a bloke gits on to dreamin' uv 

the old days an' Doreen — 
The days I thort I snared a saint ; but since 

I've understood 
I 'ave wed a dinkum woman, which is fifty 

times as good. 

I 'ave wed a dinkum woman, an' she's give 

me eyes to see. 
Oh, I ain't been mollycoddled, an' there 

ain't no fluff on me! 
But days when I wus down an' out she 

seemed so 'igh above; 

10 



WASHING DAY 

An' a saint is made fer worship, but a 

woman's made fer love, 
An' a bloke is growin' richer as sich 
things 'e comes to know . . . 
(She pegs another sheet an' sez, "The 
stove-wood's gittin' low.") 

A bloke 'e learns a lot uv things in six 

years wiv a tart; 
But thrushes in the sassafras ain't singin' 

like me 'eart. 
'Tis the thrushes 'oo 'ave tort me in their 

choonful sort o' way 
That it's best to take things singin' as 

yeh meet 'em day be day. 
Fer I wed a reel, Hve woman, wiv a 

woman's 'appy knack 
Uv torkin' reason inside out an' logic front 

to back. 

An' I like it! 'Struth I like it! Fer a 

wax doll in a 'ome, 
She'd give a man the flamin' pip an' long- 
in's fer to roam. 
Aw, I ain't no silk-sock sonkie 'oo ab'ors 
the rood an' rough ; 
II 



WASHING DAY 

Fer, city-born an' gutter-bred, me 

schoolin' it wus tough. 
An' I like the dinkum woman 'oo . . . 

(She jerks the clothes-prop, so, 
An' sez, so sweet an' dangerous, " The 

stove-wood's gittin' low.") 

See, I've studied men in cities, an' I've 

studied 'em out 'ere; 
I've seen 'em ard 'ard thro' piety an' seen 

'em kind thro' beer. 
I've seen the meanest doin' deeds to make 

the angels smile, 
An' watched the proudest playin' games 

that crooks 'ud reckon vile. 
I 'ave studied 'em in bunches an' I've read 

'em one be one. 
An' there isn't much between *em when the 

'ole thing's said an' done. 

An' I've sort o' studied wimmin — fer Fve 

met a tidy few — 
An' there's times, when I wus younger, 

when I kids meself I knew. 
But 'im 'oo 'opes to count the stars or 

measure up the sea, 

12 



WASHING DAY 

'E kin 'ave a shot at woman, fer she's 
fairly flummoxed me . . . 

(" I'll 'ave to 'ave some wood," she sez, 
an' sez it most perlite 

An' secret to a pair uv socks; an' jams a 
peg in, tight.) 

Now, a woman, she's a woman. I 'ave 

fixed that fer a cert. 
They're jist as like as rows uv peas from 

'at to 'em uv skirt. 
An' then, they're all so different, yeh 

find, before yeh've done. 
The more yeh know uv all uv 'em the 

less yeh know uv one. 
An' then, the more yeh know uv one . . . 

( She gives 'er 'air a touch : 
" The stove-wood's nearly done," she sez. 

" Not that it matters much.") 

The little gipsy vi'lits, they wus smilin' 

round me feet. 
An' this dreamin' dilly day-dreams on a 
Summer day wus sweet. 
I 'eaves me frame frum orf the fence, 
an' grabs me little axe; 
13 



WASHING DAY 

But, when Vm 'arf way to the shed, she 

stops me in me tracks. 
** Yer lunch is ready. That ole wood kin 

easy wait a while." 
Strike! Tm marri'd to a woman. . . . But 

she never seen me smile. 



LOGIC AND SPOTTED DOG 

UNLESS you 'ide that axe," she 
sez, "'E'll 'urt 'imself 
reel bad. 
An' after all — Now, Bill, don't 
cry ! — the trouble that 
I've 'ad 
Wiv 'im thro' croop an' whoopin' corf, 

'e goes an' cuts 'imself ! 
Why don't you 'ang it on the wall, or 
'ide it on a shelf? 
But there it wus, jist thrown about. You 
ort to take more care! 

You left it there ! 

"You left it there," she sez, "an' 

now. ..." I sez, " 'Old on a jiflF. 
Let's git the fac's all sorted out before we 
'as a tifif. 
I'm mighty careful wiv that axe, an' 
never leaves it out. 
IS 



LOGIC AND SPOTTED DOG 

An' I'd be mad if that young imp got 
knockin' it about." 
" Ole axe ! " she sez. " Look at 'is thumb! 
A precious lot you care! 

You left it there ! " 

I am marri'd to a woman ; which is nacheral 

an' right. 
I sez that over to meself, fer safety, day 
an' night. 
Most times I sez it fond an' proud wiv 

gladness in me mind; 
But sometimes philosophic-like an' wot 
yeh'd call resigned. 
'* An axe as sharp as that/' she sez. " It 
reely isn't fair ! 

You left it there ! 

" The way you pet that axe," she sez — 

" the way it's ground an' filed. 
The way you fairly fondle it, you'd think 
it wus a child! 
An' when I picked the ole thing up to cut 

a bit uv string 
Yeh rave an' shout. . . ." ''Wait on," 
I sez. '* But ir'n's a different thing. 
i6 



LOGIC AND SPOTTED DOG 

An' you wus choppin' f encin' wire ! " She 
sez, " Well, I don't care. 

You left it there ! " 

I *elps meself to spotted dog, an' chews, 

an' thinks a while. 
" I'm reely sorry," I begins. Then, as I 
seen 'er smile, 
I plays 'er fer the fun uv it, an' sez, 

" But, all the same, 
If he gits foolin' wiv that axe 'e's got 
'imself to blame." 
'Er eyes spark up. " A child like that ! 
Now, Bill, it isn't fair ! 

You left it there ! " 

I cuts another slice an' sez, " This spotted 

dog's a treat. 
Uv course, 'ooever left it there," I sez, 
" wus — indiscreet." 
" Careless ! " she sez. " You know you 

are! 'E might 'a' cut 'is face! 
An axe as sharp as that," she sez, 
" should be kep' in its place." 
" Quite right," I sez. " An' not," she sez, 
" jist thrown round anywhere. 
You left it there!'' 
17 



LOGIC AND SPOTTED DDG 

An' then I lets 'er 'ave it, an' I sez, " Now, 

think a bit. 
I put that axe away last night when all the 
wood wus split." 
" Well, that's enough about it now," she 

sez. I seen 'er wince, 
An' sez, '' I put that axe away, an' 
'aven't used it since; 
But someone else wus usin' it this mornin', 
I kin swear, 

An' left it there." 

"Well, never mind. . . . Poor Bill!" she 

sez. " Was 'is poor thumb all 

'urt?" 

(Oh, it's entertainin' sometimes fer to 

argue wiv a skirt.) 

" There's someone else," I sez, an' grins, 

an' kids I'm doin' fine, 
'' Wus usin' it this mornin' fer to cut a 
bit uv pine. 
So now," I sez, " apolergise ! I've beat you 
fair an' square ! 

You left it there ! " 

Fer 'arf a mo she pets young Bill, an' 
would'nt meet me eye. 
i8 



LOGIC AND SPOTTED DOG 

Thinkin' she wus — I knew she wus. An' 
then she lets it fly: 
" If you 'ad cut that wood," she sez, " an 

I implored you to, 
There wouldn't be no need fer me to 
'ave sich things to do ! 
It ain't right fer a woman. . . ." " 'Ere ! " 
I sez. " Now, I don't care 
'Oo left it there! " 

" Uv course you don't ! " she gits me back. 

'' You never care a bit ! 
An' it ain't right fer a woman to 'ave 

kin'lin' wood to split; 
While there's a man about the 'ouse ! " 

I sees the tears is near, 
An' pats 'er 'air. " Now, let it drop," I 

sez. " Don't worry, dear." 
" 'Ow can I let it drop? " she sobs. " You 

said you didn't care 

'Oo left it there." 

"I do!" I yells. "I mean — I don't — 
I. . . ." Oh, Gaw spare me days ! 

When you argue wiv a woman she 'as got 
you either ways! 
19 



LOGIC AND SPOTTED DOG 

You 'ave to do it in the end; an' so I 

licks the dirt, 
An' sez, " Dear, I apolergise. I'm — 
sorry — if I 'urt" 
Yes, I'm marri'd to a woman. An' she 
smiles, an' strokes me 'air, 

An' — leaves it there. 



20 



VFLITS 

1WUS pickin' gipsy vi'lits fer to try 
an' square Doreen. 
We ad words . . . about planners 
— fer she wants one awful 
keen — 
'Igh words, about 'igh-toned idears — 

an', like a love-sick fool, 
'Ere I'm pickin' gipsy vi'lits when the kid 
come 'ome frum school. 
'E started school a month ago, an' ain't 

got very far; 
But, judgin' be the scraps 'e 'as, 'e's takin' 
after Par. 

I tips there's somethin' wrong, the way 'e 

sneaks around the 'ouse. 
An' then I seen 'is eye. Oh, strike! 'E 

'ad a bonzer mouse ! — 
A reel black-eye, that, in me day, I would 

'a' worn wiv pride. 

21 



VI'LITS 

But rm a father now, an' sez, " 'Ere, 

son, you git inside 
An' show yer mother that there eye. 'Ow 

did it come about? " 
Sez 'e, '' A big bloke gimme that. I 

knocked the beggar out ! " 

I looks fer 'arf a second at the fambily 

disgrace. 
Then I picks another vi'let so 'e couldn't 

see me face. 
I wus grinnin' most un fatherlike, an' 

feelin' good inside. 
" You show yer Mar that eye uv yours. 

I'm 'shamed uv you ! " I Hed. 
I watch 'im creep inside the 'ouse, an' 'ear 

'is mother's yell. 
An' then I straightens up me face an' goes 

inside as well. 

'Twus raw beef-steak an' vinegar, an' tears, 

before she's done. 
An' the sort uv look she gimme sez, " Yeh 

see 'ow 'e's begun ! " 
I don't disturb the rites excep' to give 

some kind advice. 

22 



VI'LITS 

In younger days I've caught black-eyes, 
an' give 'em once or twice. 

''That big boy should be punished," sez 
Doreen, " 'oo 'it our Bill." 

I pats the 'ero's bandages, an' answers 'er 
" 'E will." 

That ev'nin^ down be'ind the shed, near 

where the scrub grows dense, 
I gives young Bill a lesson in the art uv 
self-defence. 
I teaches 'im an uppercut that Ginger 

Mick tort me 
In ole days, down in Spadger's Lane. I 
gits down on me knee 
To show 'im 'ow to time 'is 'it. 'E sneaks 

beneath me guard 
Quite sudden, while I'm yappin', an' 'e 
cracks me one reel 'ard. 

Did it please me Wot do you think? 

Strike! That kid 'as got the. 

knack ! 
An' it pleased me all to pieces 'ow the ole 

game all came back; 
23 



VFLITS 

Left-swings an' jolts an' short-arm jabs 

— the 'ole dash box uv tricks, 
Sich as we used down in the Lane when 
we wus short uv bricks. 
I'm showin' 'im a fancy 'it, a reel ole ding- 
dong clout, 
When the murderin' young savage tries tc 
knock me front teeth out! 



Uv course, 'e 'urt 'is little 'and, an' fetches 

out a yell 
That brings Doreen down double quick. 

An' then — 'twus merry 'ell. 
She grabs the kid up in 'er arms, an' gives 

me sich a look 
As I ain't seen since years ago, when I 

done — somethin' crook. 
" You'll 'ave 'im like you wus ! " she cries, 

" I'd sooner see 'im dead ! . 
You want to make 'im. . . ." *' Don't," 

I sez. " We'll take the rest as 

said." 

It 'urt to see 'er shieldin' 'im as tho' I wus 
a plague. 

24 



VPLITS 

An' ain't 'e mine as much as 'ers? Yet, 

I seen, sort o' vague, 
The woman's way she looked at it, the 

picters that she 'ad 
Uv young Bill goin' to the pack, an' fol- 

lerin' 'is dad. 
I tries me 'ardest to ixplain, an' made some 

fool ixcuse; 
But I'm marri'd to a woman, an' — Aw, 

wot's the flamin' use? 

I tells 'er if we'd 'ave young Bill keep up 

'is end at school 
'E will 'ave to use 'is flippers; but I sez it 

like a fool. 
I sez it like I wus ashamed to 'ave 'im 

learn to fight. 
When all the time, down in me 'eart,- I 

knoo that I wus right. 
She just gives me another look, an' goes 

in wiv the kid. 
An' me? I picks them vi'lits up, not 

knowin' wot I did. 

I 'as them fool things in me 'and when I 
lobs in the 'ouse, 
25 



VI'LITS 

An' makes bets wiv meself about the 
chances that she'll rouse. 
But 'er, she comes the calm an' cold. 

Think's I, " 'Ere's where I fall 
Per a forty-quid planner, if I want to 
square it all, 

Goo'-bye to forty lovely quid — time-pay- 
mint, fifty-three — 

Then all at once she smiles an' sez, " Did 
you pick those f er me ? " 

*' Did you pick those fer me," she sez. 

"Oh, Bill!" 'an then, "Oh, Billl" 
I 'ints I 'ad idears to leave 'em to 'er in me 

will. 
She grabs them dilly vi'lits, an' she 'olds 

'em to 'er nose. 
" Oh, Bill ! " she smiles, " You alwus 

knoo 'ow fond I wus uv those! 
Oh, Bill! You dear!'' She 'ugs me then, 

jist in the same ole way. 
'Struth ! I'm marri'd to a woman, an' . . . 

I'll learn young Bill some day! 



26 



POSSUM 

J 1ST 'ere it gripped me, on a sudden, 
like a red-'ot knife. 
I wus diggin' in the garden, talkin' 
pleasant to me wife, 
When it got me good an' solid, an' I 

fetches out a yell. 
An' curses soft down in me neck, an' 
breathes 'ard fer a spell. 
Then, when I tries to straighten up, it stabs 

me ten times worse. 
I think per'aps I'm dyin', an' chokes back a 
reel 'ot curse. 

" I've worked too fast," I tells Doreen. 

" Me backbone's runnin' 'ot. 
I'm sick ! I've got — Oo, 'oly wars ! I 
dunno zifot I've got! 
Jist 'ere — Don't touch! — Jist round 

back 'ere, a blazin' little pain 
Is clawin' up me spinal cord an' slidin' 
down again." 

27 



POSSUM 

" You come inside," she sez. " Per'aps it's 

stoopin' in the sun. 
Does it 'urt much ? " I sez, " Oh, no ; I'm 

'avin' lots o' fun." 

Then, cooin' to me, woman-like, she pilots 

me inside. 
It stabs me every step I takes; I thort I 

would 'a' died. 
** There now," she sez. " Men can't 

stand pain, it's alwus understood." 
"Stand pain?" I 'owls. Then, Jumpin' 

Jakes ! It gits me reely good ! 
So I gets to bed in sections, fer it give me 

beans to bend, 
An' shuts me eyes, an' groans again, an' 

jist waits fer the end. 

" Now, you lie still," she orders me, " until 

I think wot's best. 
Per'aps 'ot bran, or poultices. You jist lie 
still, an' rest," 
Rest ? 'Oly Gosh ! I clinched me teeth, 

an' clawed the bloomin' bunk ; 
Fer a red-'ot poker jabbed me ev'ry time 
I much as wunk. 
28 



POSSUM 

I couldn't corf, I couldn't move, I couldn't 

git me breath. 
" Look after Bill," I tells Doreen. " I feels 

that . . . this is . . . death." 

"Death, fiddlesticks," she laughs at me. 

** You jist turn over now." 
I 'owls, '* 'Ere ! Don't you touch me, or 

there'll be a blazin' row ! 
I want to die jist as I am," She sez, 

" Now, Bill, 'ave sense. 
This 'as to go on while it's 'ot." I 

groans, " I've no defence." 
An' so she 'as 'er way wiv me. An', tho' 

I'm sufit'rin' bad, 
I couldn't 'elp but noticin' the gentle touch 

she 'ad. 

That ev'nin', when the doctor come, sez 'e, 

"Ah! 'Urtin' much? 
Where is the trouble ? " I sez, " Where you 
ain't allowed to touch ! " 
'E mauls an' prods me while I 'owls to 

beat the bloomin' band. 
GawbH'me! I'd 'a' cracked 'im if I'd 
strength to lift me 'and. 
29 



POSSUM 

" Discribe yer symtims now," sez 'e. I 

fills meself wiv wind, 
An' slung 'im out a catalog while 'e jist 

stood and grinned. 

"Ah, har!" 'e sez. "Sciatiker! Oh, 

we'll soon 'ave yeh well." 
"Sciatiker?" sez I. ''Yer sure yeh don't 

mean Jumpin' 'Ell? 
It ain't no privit devil wiv a little jagged 

knife?" 
"Tut, tut," 'e grins. "You'll soon be 

right. I leaves yeh to yer wife." 
I looks at 'er, she smiles at me, an' when I 

seen that smile: 
" Aw, poultices ! " I groans. An' she in- 

joys it all the while! 

But I'm marri'd to a woman; an', I gives 

yeh my straight tip, 
It makes a man feel glad uv it when sick- 
ness gits a grip. 
'Er looks is full uv tenderness 'er ways 

is full uv love. 
An' 'er touch is like a blessin' as she 
gently bends above. 
30 



POSSUM 

'Er speech is firm, but motherin'; 'er man- 
ners strict, but mild : 

Yer 'er 'usban', an' 'er patient, an' 'er little 
orphin child. 

When yer marri'd to a woman an' yer 

f eelin' well an' right ; 
When yer frame is full uv ginger an' yer 

mouth is full uv skite, 
Then yeh tork about the " missus " in an 

'orf'and sort uv way; 
She's 'andy in the 'ouse if she don't 'ave 

too much to say. 
But when Ole Man Sciatiker, 'e does yeh 

up reel neat. 
Then she's yer own reel mate, she is, an' 

all yer 'ands an' feet. 

An' so Doreen, she nurses me while I lie 

there an' grouch ; 
Fer I'm snarky when I tumble that it ain't 
me dyin' couch. 
I barks at 'er, an' snarls at 'er, an' orders 

'er about. 
An' nearly wears the feet orf 'er wiv 
trottin' in an' out. 
31 



POSSUM 

An' while Ole Man Sciatiker, 'e 'as me in 

'is sway 
Doreen, she jist gives in to me — an' alwus 

gits 'er way. 

Three solid days I 'as uv it, an' then the 

pain lets out. 
I'm feelin' fit fer graft again, an' wants to 

git about. 
It's then she lets me see ^er 'and, an' 

orders, " You stay there 
Until yeh gits yer 'ealth an' strength to 

sit up in a chair." 
*' But there's that stove-wood," I begins. 

Sez she, " Now, don't you fret. 
I'm very sparin' wiv it, an' there's tons an' 

tons there yet." 

Tell yeh straight; I got to like it. It's a 

crook thing to confess, 
But to 'ave 'er fussin' round me gives me 
chunks uv 'appiness. 
So I gits out in the garden wiv an arm- 
chair an' a rug. 
An' I comes the floppin' invaleed, an' 
makes meself reel snug. 
32 



POSSUM 

I droops me eyes an' 'angs me 'ands, an' 

looks dead crook an' ill ; 
An' wriggles ev'ry time she sez, " Wot 

would yeh like now, Bill ? " 

An' then, one day, I 'ears the axe down 
there be'ind the 'ouse ; 

An' I sees meself a loafer, an' me con- 
science starts to rouse. 
I 'eaves me frame out uv the chair, an' 

wanders down the yard. 
She's beltin' at a knotty log, an' beltin' 
good an' 'ard. 

I grabs the axe. " Give up," I sez. " I 
ain't no shattered wreck. 

This 'ere's my job." An' then Gawstruth! 
I gits it in the neck ! 

"Am I yer wife?" she asks me straight. 

'' Why can't yeh trust me. Bill? 
Am I not fit to see to things when you are 
weak an' ill?" 
I tries to say I'm possumin', an' reely 

well an' strong; 
But ev'ry time I starts to tork she's got 
me in the wrong. 
23 



POSSUM 

" Yeh can't deceive me, Bill," she sez. 

" Yeh 'ealth is fur f rum good. 
Ye jist can't trust yer wife to chop a little 

bit uv wood! 

" Yeh got to come out in the cold," she 

sez, " wivout yer wraps. 
An' now I'll 'ave yeh on me 'ands fer days 

wiv a relapse ! " 
" I been pretendin'," I ixplains. She 

sez, "Am I yer wife? 
Yet sooner than yeh'd trust to me yeh go 

an' risk yer life," 
Well, I'm marri'd to a woman, an' — it 

might seem sort uv meek — 
I goes back into bed again ... an' 'ates 

it ... fer a week! 



THE END 



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